


Messenger to the Astrals

by CelestialCelly



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: At the start, Brotherly Love, Crying, Episode Ignis Spoilers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iggy learns what it means to be human, Kid Ignis, Kinda, Prompt Fill, Reincarnation, Shit goes down, Whump, bless him, kid noctis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 04:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20651042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialCelly/pseuds/CelestialCelly
Summary: Sent down by the Astrals to aide the soul of the King of Kings, Ignis spent two thousand years tempering the lives of those he served in preparation for the birth of the Chosen. While Noctis may not remember his past reincarnations, Ignis remembers all of his, and will do whatever it takes to protect his king so that he could fulfill his role as the Chosen.





	1. The Chosen Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [masamune11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masamune11/gifts).

> I hope you enjoy this fic, Masamune. I apologise for taking so long, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't get invested in it to the point of madness.  
Also, a huge thanks to my good bud for tolerating my bullshit and Beta reading this monstrosity for me lol. She's a trooper XD

He had lost track of how many kings he had to serve before finally meeting the Chosen.

  
Lost count of how many times he had to die and be reborn into the next generation only to keep serving.

  
Ignis wasn’t going to lie, it was both dull and exhausting. When Bahamut told him he would be a key role in aiding the Chosen King in their quest to dispel the darkness, the messenger didn’t protest any further than with a sigh. He wasn’t terribly fond of the humans and their often childish manners - but if one was destined to save them all, then Ignis couldn’t really turn down the offer. A curious side of him wanted to see if the humans could redeem themselves for their dark actions towards the Astrals those many years ago.

  
What they _didn’t_ tell him however, was that it would take two thousand years for this particular King to exist.

  
The Astrals also told him that this specific line of royals was different from the rest of the humans. Just like any other mortal being, they would live and die a short life. But similarly to Ignis, they would be reborn in a sense - connected to the lives they had in the past - even though, _unlike_ Ignis, they wouldn’t retain their memories of their previous lives.

  
It still didn’t stop Ignis from trying to imprint certain teachings into them to mould them to be the best that they could. And much to his surprise, they did actually improve each lifetime with his assistance - Even though they were only minor improvements.

  
And so he waited, until the Chosen king - the 114th in the Lucis Caelum line - was finally born. Noctis was his name.

  
The messenger was both thrilled and terrified when he discovered this. On one hand, the wait was finally over and he could begin his duty to help guide the boy to save humanity. But on the other; Ignis realised that now, he couldn’t afford to make a single error of judgement. If the Chosen was to fall before dispelling the darkness, not even the astrals knew how many more thousands of years it would take for another to be born.

  
If humanity were even to survive that long without a savour, that is.

  
But right now, there wasn’t much the two year old could do, other than wait until he was older and had proper control of his own body; Like being able to walk around without tripping over his own feet or having the ability to use a toilet that wasn’t a nappy wrapped around his waist…

  
The toddler pouted. The first few years were always a drag.

  
But when Ignis’s fifth birthday finally passed, he was delighted to hear from his uncle that he got the position as Noctis’s retainer and future advisor. It would be the perfect position for him to keep an eye on the growing boy, while being able to guide him down the right path for when he eventually matures into his role as the Chosen.

  
When the King finally introduced Ignis to the young prince, he expected him to be be a spoilt child, just like many of the previous royals he served. but much to his surprise - the young boy was extremely timid. It was only when Regis gently held his hand and pulled Noctis from hiding behind his legs, could Ignis truly see the boy he was to grow up with.

  
Through his slightly-too-big glasses, the small messenger could see clearly the nervousness that leaked from the young Prince’s eyes as he struggled to make eye contact. Noting down this shy behaviour - Ignis calmly reached a hand out for the dark-haired boy to take, in the hopes of showing him that he meant no harm.

  
Noctis lifted his gaze from his small feet to face the hand that reached out to him. Blinking his big stormy-blue eyes together, he reached both arms out to grasp onto Ignis’s marginally larger hand. The timid smile he gave the young messenger surprisingly warmed his heart. And right away, he knew he was different from all the previous kings he had served.

  
It did take some time for the young prince to come out of his shell – though it was hardly surprising, since he never really interacted with other children his age. It made Ignis wonder whether or not he was actually the first friend Noctis had made on his own.

  
Ignis had to remind himself that it didn’t matter.

  
All that mattered was that Noctis fulfilled his role as the Chosen.

* * *

  
A shy knock at the door was what first got Ignis’s attention. He was sitting at his tiny white desk with his favourite cosmology book in hand. His jade, spectacle-covered eyes struggling to tear from the pages filled with gripping legends and myths. The only source of light in the room emitting from a warm yellow lamp that rested on his short nightstand.

  
With a sigh, Ignis reluctantly rested his open book face down on the desk, so not to lose his page. But before his small hand could reach up to answer the door, an even smaller set of feet had already let themselves into his tiny room, quickly followed by little arms wrapping tightly around his stomach and a pale face burying itself into his chest. A stuffed moogle plush toy dropped carelessly by his feet in favour of hugging.

  
Shocked by the sudden behaviour the small boy was displaying, Ignis shifted his arms from being awkwardly raised above his head to rest on Noctis’s shoulders in an attempt to gently pull him off. But when the tawny-haired boy reached out to him, he sensed the trembling in his Prince’s arms, and the light whimpers and sniffles emanating from the back of his throat. Instead, something else within the messenger told him to comfort the shy young boy and stopped tugging at him.

  
“Noct?” Ignis asked gently, “Whats wrong?” His small hands fell from their grip to wrap around Noctis, drawing him closer as he rubbed light circles on the small boy’s back in a futile effort to calm him down.

  
The little boy with inky-black hair only buried his face further into his future advisor’s chest as his whines grew into sobs. Ignis said nothing as he felt his cotton pyjama shirt slowly dampen with what were certainly tears from the distressed Prince. It wasn’t like him to be so emotional around him - and _definitely_ not helplessly in tears.

  
That was when Ignis realised something very important.

  
Noctis came to _him_ for help.

  
Not his father.

  
_His brother._

  
“Noct,” Ignis tried again, but with a little more firmness in his voice. “I need you to tell me whats wrong, or I won’t be able to help you.” The older boy released the younger from his embrace. Instead, positioning his hands to hold onto the weeping boy’s. His small palms were unusually clammy.

  
Noctis nodded multiple times, sniffling loudly and trying his hardest to keep himself from crying any more so that he could speak. A blue, moogle-printed pyjama sleeve went up and messily wiped away the dampness that stained his flushed cheeks. Ignis’s brows pinched further when the Prince lowered his arm to look up at him with red eyes and trembling lips. “I… I had a-“ Noctis hiccuped and new tears began to fall.

  
Ignis quickly filled in the gaps, dragging the knuckle of his index fingers gently underneath the shorter boy’s eyes to clean up the fresh tears. “You had a nightmare.” He stated. Earning a shy nod as a response and a thumb shoving into Noct’s mouth.

  
The messenger reopened his arms and encased the smaller boy in his grasp. “Do you want to stay in my room tonight, Highness?”. Another shy nod, and the sandy-blond child shuffled towards his bed, holding onto Noctis’s free hand with his own.

  
Once Noctis crawled under the fresh sheets on the left side, Ignis let his grasp slip, reaching for his cosmology book that still sat open on his desk.

Swinging his weight around to face his fluffy bed, he couldn’t help the small smile curl his lips when he saw Noctis staring up at him with big, storm-blue eyes. His thumb still out of view, shyly hiding inside of his little mouth. Something about him made the messenger feel emotions he thought he had forgotten for centuries. Fondness, perhaps?

  
The bed was hardly big enough to fit them both in it, but Ignis shuffled under the sheets beside Noctis anyway. The younger boy leaned his head on the older’s shoulder, burying the top of his puffy head into the crook of his neck as he made himself comfortable. Ignis surprised himself when he moved to wrap his free arm around the Prince, holding him close. He wasn’t used to expressing affection towards humans, but for some reason, the action felt strangely natural.

  
Once both boys were settled next to each other, Ignis turned off his lamp, and turned on the night-light he kept beside his bed, before opening up the cosmology book to where he left off. Reading it aloud for Noctis, since he was still too young to decipher words reliably on his own.

  
It didn’t take too long for Noctis to drift off, and Ignis could only tell by the shift in his breathing that the boy that was not too long ago in tears, had fallen into a deep slumber. The tawny-haired messenger smiled tiredly, and without even realising it, his blonde lashes fluttered shut, too tired to bookmark his page or even pinch his glasses off from the bridge of his nose.

  
Ignis forced himself to remember that it didn’t matter.

  
All that mattered was that Noctis fulfilled his role as the Chosen.

* * *

  
  
It was 3:00am when Ignis had the biggest scare of his life.

  
He was in a deep sleep, getting some much needed rest after a lengthy meeting that had thoroughly worn him out - meanwhile the eight-year-old Prince was on a trip to see the fireflies at dusk with his nanny, since King Regis was unsurprisingly caught up in his duties and prevented from joining his son.

  
The ten year old’s uncle suddenly burst into his small room, panting like he had just run a marathon, terrifying the unsuspecting young boy at the sudden intrusion with a loud yelp that wasn’t quite covered by his own hands in time to hush himself.

  
Whatever had caused his uncle to explode into his room at this hour must have been important. And Ignis wasn’t sure if it was because he was just woken up with a near heart attack, or if it was because something was _seriously_ wrong; but judging by the grim look on his uncles face, the chances of this intrusion being due to something good were slim to none.

  
“Uncle?” Ignis prompted nervously.

  
Before the tawny-haired boy could rub the sleepy from his eyes, reassuring arms were wrapped around him, rubbing up and down his back. “I’m terribly sorry to wake you so early, but we must talk urgently.” The greying man spoke quietly. Not that it really mattered. The amount of noise he made charging into the room was more than enough to alert everyone within a thirty meter radius.

  
But something about this was deathly wrong.

  
Before Ignis could stop himself, the words spilled from his mouth as he tried to comprehend what was going on with his young, still developing brain. “Has something happened to Noct?”. That was the first priority. He didn’t even care that he let he little nickname slip, nothing mattered when he could be-

  
The older Scientia pulled away gently, but kept his hands resting on the boy’s shoulders. “There was an attack. A daemon-” the man all but muttered, shaking his head as though still trying to convince himself of what had happened was indeed true.

  
Ignis could have sworn he felt his heart stop. “Is he-“ The small advisor couldn’t get the words out faster, but didn’t have the strength to finish his sentence. He needed to know. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose him this soon. He hadn’t even finished primary-school!

  
“Calm, Ignis. The Prince is still alive. He’s currently in the ICU, getting treated as we speak.”.

  
Ignis let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding… Intensive care. It couldn’t have meant good things for his health, but it was far more preferred to the other option. He had to remind himself of that. “Is he going to be okay?” He asked, trying not to let show the fright in his small voice.

  
The elder ran a hand through his nephew’s messy hair, and Ignis immediately saw through his false smile. “He’ll be okay. You can see him in a few days, alright?”

  
The boy nodded and watched as his uncle slowly rose from beside him on his small, grey-sheeted bed. “You try and get some sleep now. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.” Ignis’s uncle gently urged him to lie back down against his soft pillow.

  
Smoothing down a stray lock of hair on the side of Ignis’s face, he leaned down to press a small kiss to the top of the boy’s head. “Good night, Ignis.” He spoke softly, before shuffling out of his small room, making note to shut the door as he left.

  
Ignis didn’t sleep that night. He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of losing the Chosen, or losing his friend.

  
Ignis struggled to tell himself that it didn’t matter.

  
All that mattered was that Noctis fulfilled his role as the Chosen.

  
From that day forward, Ignis never left Noct’s side.


	2. The Chosen Path

Ignis would never forget what went through his head when he saw the Leide newspaper sitting on the stand, taunting him.  
In bold red print, on the front page. _“Insomnia falls”._

  
A quiet gasp escaped his lips as he read it back to himself, over and over again. Hoping the words would change and that this wasn’t true. But they never did.

  
He couldn’t believe it. There were only there a couple of days ago. Everything was so normal. But now…

  
Everyone he knew from home. Gone.

  
The King, dead. His Uncle and parents more than likely, too. He would never be allowed to return - not even to bury their corpses that were surely just left to rot in the ruins he once called his home.

  
It wasn’t the first time he had lost everyone. He had his fair share of loss in previous lives, and they never bothered him nearly as much as this did.

  
So why did it matter so much to him? He was better than humans. An immortal messenger, only sent down to guide a single man to save them from one of their own. They shouldn’t matter to him. They weren’t important like the Chosen was.

  
For the first time, Ignis felt true grief. His heart felt like a dagger had lodged its way in and was digging into his left ventricle every time he inhaled. It was suffocating.

  
…And now he would have to tell Noctis that he had to take his fathers place on the throne, before the body was even cold. Noctis wasn’t ready for this responsibility, and they all knew he still had a long way to go. Bloody hell, he was barely out of his _teens_!

  
But how could Ignis do that to him? Noctis’s heart would shatter at the news. He didn’t want to tell him. He couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to hurt him. But he had to. There was no chance that he wouldn’t see it in the papers, the television, or even hear it on the radio in the Regalia. He _needed_ to know.

  
So why was this so hard for him to do?

  
Hesitantly, the advisor returned to front door of the hotel room he knew Noctis would still be sleeping in. Blissfully unaware that his home was no longer his, and that his father had perished amongst many others that they held dear, including Gladiolus’s father - who Ignis had no doubt - would have died only minutes before his King and best friend in an attempt to protect him.

  
Ignis took a deep breath, and reluctantly opened the door. His other hand clutching onto the newspaper that would forever change their lives.

  
Much to his surprise, Noctis was awake. Probably so that he could go fishing or feed that peculiar feline that claimed its own little spot on the pier.

  
“Whats that look for?” Noctis deadpanned. Drat, how was he supposed to say this?

  
Gladio slowly made his way towards him, reaching a hand out to silently ask for the newspaper that shook slightly in his tight grasp. “Its in all the papers…” Ignis nearly muttered. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, and gave Gladio the burden to read.

  
He wasn’t even listening to the Shield as he read it aloud. Ignis had read it enough times for him to be able to recite the blasted thing off by heart. He tried to compose himself and think. Were there any signs of a planned attack? How could this have happened so suddenly and violently?

  
Then he realised. The treaty. The day that was meant to mark peace, but only sparked the war to grow into even larger flames. There was no way that Noctis and Lunafreya’s wedding was conveniently planned to be as far away from Insomnia as possible.

  
Everything started to click into place.

  
Regis _knew_ that the treaty was a trap that he couldn’t avoid.

  
He _knew_ that it would be his last time to speak to his son on the front steps to the citadel.

  
And Ignis was going to make sure that his son would walk tall, even if it killed him.

* * *

  
  
They decided to stay in a motel that night after agreeing that all they felt too distraught to try and set up camp at a haven. Even Gladio admitted that he wasn’t feeling up to the task. Once they all settled into their small room, Prompto - bless him - tried to lighten the mood if only a little by pulling out a deck of cards from the small bag he packed for what was supposed to be a short trip to Altissia and back, while Ignis started to cook dinner and try and clear his head.

  
He couldn’t very well say that he was surprised that Noctis didn’t eat a lot, even after Ignis insisted that he at least eat a few more bites to try and keep up his strength for the long road ahead. Looking around the circular table though, the advisor couldn’t help but notice that Gladio and Prompto were clearly lacking an appetite as well. Normally, Ignis would feel insulted that they didn’t want to eat his cooking that he always worked so hard on to perfect. But tonight, he also felt the same empty feeling in his stomach that ironically made him not want to eat to fill the pit.

  
Prompto suggested that maybe it would be a good idea if they all went to bed early, since the quartet was feeling down and could most certainly use a good nights rest in preparation for the next day. Ignis concurred with a nod, and told Noctis - who was looking at him with a raised brow upon realising he wasn’t joining them - that he had to wash the dishes first before resting, lest the scraps of food would solidify to the plates and make it near impossible to scrape off.

  
He was telling the truth, partially.

  
Ignis purposefully scrubbed the dishes and dirty pots at a slow pace, keeping an ear open for the other three to hear the telltale shift of breathing that spoke of a deep sleep. Occasionally, he’d hear a quiet mutter of nonsense or the smacking of drying lips.

  
Once he was convinced that they were in a deep enough slumber for him not to be able to easily disturb them, the advisor picked up his pace with the cleaning and set the clean kitchenware aside to dry, before shuffling his way towards the couch and slumping into it with a heavy sigh. His hands, now dry but wrinkled from the soapy dish water, draped heavily across his forehead when he laid himself flat on the cushions, stretching his legs to the tips of his toes as he did so. Knowing full well that he’d have a sore neck in the morning from the armrest of the couch, but lacking the effort to pick himself back up, Ignis let his eyes slowly drift shut.

  
Though it wasn’t a peaceful sleep.

  
In the dark, early hours of the next day, a loud shuffle roused the lightly sleeping man, causing him to jerk upright awake at the sound, still not entirely coherent as he fought off the effects of sleep. The shuffling instantly stopped, with a quiet gasp coming from the person hiding in the dark.

  
“Noct?” Ignis groggily called. Rubbing the dew from his eyes. It was safe to assume it was him, since Gladio wouldn’t normally gasp, and Prompto would likely shriek.

  
“Oh, hey Specs…” Noct strained. Trying to sound casual but he accidentally let the waver in his voice slip out.

  
“Is everything alright?” Cutting to the point as usual. Sometimes Noctis hated that he never gave him a chance to think of a good excuse.

  
Noctis nodded, but then when he realised that Ignis probably wouldn’t be able to see him too well in the dark added a “mhm.”.

  
He noticed that Ignis wasn’t buying it one bit and persisted. “It would be best if you tell me whats troubling your mind, lest it eats away at you.”

  
“Its nothing… Don’t worry about it” the younger man hesitantly answered, waving his hand dismissively.

  
“Noct…” Ignis urged in that one particular tone that the new King was not fond of. The same one he’d use when scolding him for prioritising his favourite video game over homework.

  
He sighed. Best to get this over with so that they can both just go back to sleep. “I… had a nightmare.” Noctis felt a bit immature when he said it out loud. Aren’t nightmares something that only really children get?

  
Of course, Ignis didn’t care about that. All that mattered was that his dear friend was hurting. And that was more than enough to keep him up at any hour. It wasn’t the first time that the dark-haired man fell victim to a nightmare. No, very much the opposite - Ever since his injury with the daemon as a child, he became prone to them - To the point where he was too scared to sleep without the small carbuncle totem his father gave him, resting on his pillow or hidden tightly in his grasp.

  
Though what worried him, was that Noctis hadn’t experienced these heavy nightmares in a very long time. And it wasn’t a mystery what had caused the old scars to resurface.

  
Ignis said nothing but gave his brother a sympathetic look.

  
“I’m… gonna go and get some fresh air.” Noct finally spoke after a lengthy silence. He ran a hand through his hair with one hand and gestured to the sliding door leading to the balcony with the other, awkwardly shuffling towards it as he spoke as though trying to avoid the incoming uncomfortable silence.

  
Wordlessly, the advisor followed closely behind. Knowing from experience that Noctis would want to speak with him eventually, but he just needed time to process his thoughts beforehand. Stepping outside onto the veranda, the cold air bit into his bare arms and face instantly, and the tawny-haired man regretted not bringing his jacket out with him.

  
It was a long silence, but neither seemed to mind. Noctis simply watched as each of his breaths fogged up in the dark sky, and Ignis made a mental note of where the stars were positioned. Trying to recall from his old cosmology book what each constellation symbolised. He aught to go stargazing with Noctis the next time they camped at a haven. That always seemed to calm his mind as a child after a bad dream.

  
Finally, Noctis spoke up when he noticed that the dawn was starting to approach. The not-quite-pure-black sky starting to blend into a warm orange from the ascending sun. He probably wouldn’t get another good chance to talk with his advisor alone until the next night. And he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to manage that alone. “Iggy, I’m not ready…” His voice was quiet. Vulnerable. “I don’t know how to be King!” His head dropped. Looking down towards the water fountain that never rested.

  
“That’s why we’re here, Noct. You needn’t bare this burden alone. We’ll stand by you through and through.” The bespectacled man rested a gentle hand on his King’s shoulders, rubbing soothingly to try and settle his thoughts.

  
“How did this happen, Specs? I was gonna marry Luna and bring peace! Now she’s missing, and our home…” Noctis sighed, shaking his head to try and rid the lump in his throat. “Its all happening too quick. And, If you guys didn’t come with me, I-” Hands lifted to cover his face, and Ignis started to wonder if Noctis was crying.

  
_They’d be dead too._ Ignis realised. Along with everyone else that Noctis loved.

  
Before the messenger could think, his arms wrapped around his brother, pulling him close. Letting him lean his head against his shoulder as he tried to fight tears, but failing to hold them back. And though Ignis might not feel nearly as much pain as Noctis did, he understood how much it meant to him. It was too much for someone so young.

  
All Ignis could do was hold Noctis until he had calmed down. Muttering reassuring words to reassure him that he wasn’t alone. Though, he wasn’t sure if anything he said actually mattered.

  
The only thing that kept Ignis grounded was knowing that Noctis was safe with him.

  
All that mattered was that Noctis was still able to fulfil his role as the Chosen.

* * *

  
  
It took some time, but they were finally back on track. With the mythril safely obtained from the claws of the Quetzalcoatl, Noctis, Ignis, Prompto and Aranea steadily made their way back up the dungeon. They were all collectively tired from the trek, not to mention having fought several daemons along the way. While the trio of men were originally skeptical to have the Imperial Commodore accompanying them to the heart of the dungeon - especially since their last meeting involved their blades clashing against one another - their opinions of her gradually softened over the journey, eventually landing on thankful for her aid. Even more so after they learned about her plans to leave the Empire and return to working as a mercenary.

  
Thankfully, their hike back was not nearly as eventful as it were their initial way down. Most of the daemons they had run into were dead, and the small amount that lingered behind were weak enough to be simple of disposing. It gave the messenger the precious time he needed to collect his thoughts about what they should do to prepare for meeting Leviathan.

  
Nearing the staircase at the entrance of the dungeon, Aranea suddenly came to an abrupt stop. Causing Ignis to walk straight into her armoured back for he was still in too deep a thought to realise. She barely shifted at all from his clumsiness - as sturdy as a wall.

  
She swallowed. Twisting her head around to look the men in their eyes, but kept her feet firmly planted on the first bottom step. “Next time we meet, it’ll be as allies - and not because that damn Chancellor says so.” The silver-haired woman flashed a smile at them, earning a shy laugh from the blonde. She quickly added, “So don’t die, because I’m relying on you guys to end this war.”.

  
Noctis and Ignis nodded. Prompto probably would have too if he wasn’t too busy trying to think of a witty response that he could use to flirt with her. Honestly, Ignis was so confused at how quickly the photographer could jump from being interested in one person to the next.

  
One foot in front of the other, the group finally resurfaced from the depths of the dungeon. Squinting their eyes to fight off the assault from the sun’s harsh rays after being deprived of it for such a period. How long were they down there, anyway?

  
“Ah! Good to see you’re still alive.” A much too familiar voice called from the blinding light of day. The Accursed, without a doubt.

  
The Commodore huffed but didn’t speak. Obviously not fond of his overly-peppy nature.

  
“You may have been hired under false pretences, but your assistance was invaluable all the same.” The messenger spoke up, and was very surprised to see that the sharp-tongued Highwind was at a loss for words.

  
…Almost like she didn’t know what gratitude was.

  
Ignis was even more confused when he noticed the light pink blush dusting her pale cheeks, and the shy chuckle she released with it - _Shy!_ \- Aranea Highwind was _always_ overflowing with poise and self-confidence. But a little compliment was enough to throw her composure out the window.

  
Eventually, she replied with a simple “Thanks.” But struggled to make solid eye contact with him as she spoke. And it didn’t exactly go unnoticed by Noctis and Prompto, who were both staring wide-eyed at Ignis as though he had just threatened to skin someone alive in front of their family.

  
When Aranea realised how much she was blushing, she turned her back to them with a swift pivot, her silver braided hair flinging from side to side with the sway of her steps. She cleared her throat, “Before I forget - I’m supposed to give you guys a lift back to Lestallum. I’ll meet you at my airship when you’re ready.” And with that, she left Ignis to Noct’s teasing smile, and Prompto - who seemed rather shaken up by the entire scene.

  
“Wha- What just happened?” Prompto squealed, looking rather offended, much to the advisor’s confusion.

  
“Heh… She _likes_ you, Specs.” Noctis folded his arms with a smirk.

  
Ignis blinked. That was definitely not what he expected to hear. “And pray tell, what gave you _that_ idea, Noct.”

  
“Did you not just see the way she totally blushed at you?”

  
“I fail to see how that means she has taken an interest in me. Perhaps she has just never received praise before.” Ignis was _not_ going to let those thoughts get the better of him. He refused to allow it.

  
“Man, you really have _no idea_ how girls work, do you?” The King held back a laugh only just.

  
At first, Ignis was offended, but then he thought about it harder and realised that he was frustratingly correct. In all of his past lives, the messenger never found himself drawn towards finding a romantic partner. He was always so focused on aiding the crown that he never even batted an eye towards others that could have been interested in _him_.

  
Needless to say, this was a first.

  
Still, he needed to be focused on Noct. He couldn’t allow any distractions to take hold - Even if their intentions were harmless. All that he allowed himself to focus on was making sure that Noctis fulfilled his role as the Chosen.

  
But of course, Noctis was enjoying himself too much to think about anything else. “You should ask her out while we’re heading back to Lestallum. I’m sure you can find a restaurant you could treat her to.” The King playfully nudged his advisor’s arm with an elbow.

  
Ignis sighed at Noct and opened his phone when he felt it buzz in his pocket. Unsurprisingly, it was a text from Cindy regarding the newly-obtained mythril. Eager to turn the topic _away_ from his personal life, Ignis announced to the Prince and the still-pouting Prompto that they were to meet her at the power plant, earning a playful eye roll from the other two that were undoubtably aware of his plea to change the subject.

  
The messenger looked more and more forward to Gladio’s return - so that the two younger men’s shenanigans could redirect in his direction. Honestly, the last thing Ignis needed to worry about was a relationship to balance _along_ with his already restless duties as Hand to the King.


	3. The Chosen King

This wasn’t meant to happen. Everything was going so well, so why did it have to go wrong _now_?

  
Lunafreya was dead. Leviathan was still wreaking havoc on Altissia and the innocent civilians that were unfortunate enough to be amidst it. And worst of all - Pryna had given the messenger a vision of what was to come, before she too - perished.

  
Noctis was doomed to die at the hands of those Ignis once called his “Kings” and “Queens”, and he couldn’t- no, he _refused_ to believe it.

  
Ignis thrashed around in the cold, soulless hands of the MT’s pinning him to the freezing bricks of the altar. His vision hindered from not only the loose strands of soaked tawny hair that dangled in front of his eyes, but also the missing glasses that were crushed underneath Ardyn’s boot. Powerless to do anything but watch a blurry Noctis, who was just out of his grasp and unconscious and in the literal hands of the Accursed - who held a silver dagger in the air, only a ruler’s length away from his chest, ready to plunge it in and make those thousands of years Ignis spent watching over the line of Lucis worthless.

  
But more than that. Ignis was about to lose his dear friend. Someone he'd go as far to say his _brother. _The very first human he held close to his heart. And he was going to be stabbed in front of his very eyes.

  
He couldn’t let it happen.

  
A sudden burst of adrenaline surged through his veins as he pushed himself against the MTs with a loud cry. It caught the Ardyn’s attention, which is exactly what he hoped it would do. There wasn’t a single care if he made himself look like a fool. He’d do anything to get his attention away from Noct.

  
Ignis announced the ring in his palm with a snarl in his voice. There had to be something he could do to save him. Even if it meant giving everything he had to the Kings. He’d pay that price!

  
Ignis slipped the black ring onto his middle finger with a shout, his hands twitching to cover his face as the pain steadily rose from his hand through each of his nerves. The ring fought violently against the man that bore not a drop of royal blood in his body. Everything was warm - It was hot - it was burning his eyes and the agony was immeasurable to the point that he didn’t think he’d be able to hold onto consciousness for much longer.

  
He willed himself to open his eyes against the pain. He needed to see Noct one last time before being plummeted into the dark if that is what fate decided to take from him.

  
But what he saw wasn’t Noctis. Ardyn wasn’t there either. It was a dark void and the atmosphere was filled with heatless blue flames and ash that sifted through the air. Time seemed to have come to a complete stop and Ignis wasn’t sure if he was still conscious or not by how dream-like this all seemed.

  
A deep voice bellowed through the abyss that would have normally made any man flinch, but seemed strangely familiar to the messenger. “If you call upon the Kings lusting for our power, Mortal - you first must stand our judgement. The ring is not granted for those of common blood.”.

  
The messenger turned around, the Kings of Lucis suddenly towering over him in a ring of cobalt blue mist. “I’m not here for your bloody ring.” He called. “I’m here to make an exchange…” He willed himself not to shake and stand tall. One wrong step or a single breath of fear would surely be the end of his life.

  
“Then what is it you come for? Speak!” The Kings voices were heavy with impatience. Obviously disgusted to think that Ignis was so bold to believe that he was worthy of making such a statement.

  
“The prophecy said that the light can only be restored by the Chosen King. But you also intend on marching him to his own grave without him even knowing it? I refuse to let you take him from me!”.

  
“Silence!” The Kings boomed and the flames grew in intensity, making it even harder to see through them as they wavered in the emptiness. “You do not command us, mortal of common birth! The blood price must be paid, and it must be by one of royal decent.”.

  
Ignis clenched his fists and took a step closer to the loudest King that stood in front. “No… I have lived alongside all of you. Guided every single one of you through each life that you lived. _And this is how you repay me? By stripping away the one thing I worked so hard to treasure?”_ He gritted his teeth and furrowed his brows, “I am Ignis Scientia! Messenger to Bahamut and the Astrals! And if you won’t spare Noctis’s life without a blood price, _then take my life!_ A world without him in it is not one that I am willing to live in!”.

  
The Kings were silent. Perhaps shocked, or thinking over his proposal. “You show no fear and appear loyal to your cause, Aide to the Astrals…” The flames dimmed from their inferno. “Very well. When the Chosen King ascends the throne, the price will be your life, and his will be spared. Now, Leave to protect the future, and do not return.” The voices fell silent and the flames dimmed down into nothing. The world was black and deathly quiet for a few moments, and all Ignis could hear was his own panting breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

  
But it worked. Noct would be spared - it didn’t matter to Ignis that the cost would be his life instead. His King would live…

  
The ash that blackened his vision started to clear, and the pain from the ring that still sat on his finger boiled his blood once more. That’s when he realised the power that surged through his veins and burned to his heart like acid. A strong heat radiated from his left eye, and a tentative hand rose to touch his high cheekbone, only to find it engulfed in purple flames.

  
Ardyn was still there, staring at him with a smug grin plastered on his face. All he had to do was keep Noct safe and push the Accursed away. He could do that - He had the power of Kings on his side. He could do this.

  
Ignis reached into the armiger in search for his silver edged daggers, when Ardyn suddenly appeared before him in a warp of red light before he could summon them to his hands. Lurking over his shoulder with a smirk and a patronisingly soft voice, “They’ve shown you their favour, after all…” The accursed bared his teeth in a bitter grin and a hand coated in a purple demonic haze rose to propel Ignis away.

  
The messenger landed firmly on his toes and flashed his daggers to hand, aiming for the Accursed the second he felt the familiar weight between his fingers, and letting them glide through the air with ease, only for them to narrowly miss his man’s sides with his throws.

  
With each passing second, Ignis could feel the ring’s power slowly fading into the rain. He dared not to focus too much on the flames crawling up his skin that would definitely scar his bare arms when the power of Kings finally left him. He’d worry about that later.

  
Narrowly leaping out of the way of Ardyn’s swinging boot, Ignis seized the opportunity to lodge a dagger into the shoulder of his foe while he was gathering his balance from the last strike. He barely twisted the knife free before springing away from the Accursed. Realising in that moment that the wound he inflicted on him should have hurt a lot more than what it did. He wasn’t bleeding blood, either. A thick black goo was what instead dripped from the hole that dug into his flesh.

  
He knew that Ardyn wasn’t like the other humans. But Ignis now had to wonder if he was human at all. The substance that dripped from his skin was miasmic and appeared too daemonic for it to be anything else. Not to mention the way he didn’t seem to feel pain either, and was even _smiling_.

  
Another swing from Ardyn’s steel capped boot scarcely missed Ignis’s face as he arched himself away with a flip. Quickly following with summoning his lance with the intention to launch it at his foe. Until suddenly, he felt as though someone had shot him through the chest with a flame-lit arrow and he felt weightless. His grip slipped from the hilt of the spear and it dropped to his feet with a loud clatter. Ignis managed to hold back a scream, but still let out a noise loud enough for Ardyn to hear. He sauntered over to the pained man - almost passively.

  
“Well then. Wasn’t that exciting?” He mocked, patting his shoulder patronisingly. “I think that’s enough for one day.” The accursed turned his back with arrogance in his step, and within the blink of an eye, he was gone.

  
Ignis looked down at where the arrow had seemingly struck, but when he pressed against the wound, he found nothing. Not a single mark that would suggest the amount of pain he was in. That’s when he noticed the ring’s flames had dimmed down, leaving patches of his skin white with burns and ash.

  
Ah… The ring’s power had finally run dry. He probably didn’t have much time until he was completely exhausted then.

  
Slowly, he stumbled over to his King as close as he could, when his legs finally folded in on themselves and he crumbled onto the drenched brick below, just meters away from Noctis. The only sound he could hear was the rumble of the restless storm and his own rasping breaths as he tried to hold onto consciousness.

  
He willed himself to move his arms just enough so he could grasp onto the ring that clung to his charred finger - He couldn’t let Gladio and Prompto see that he used it, and least of all, Noctis.

  
He grit his teeth, tugging the Ring of the Lucii off his middle finger along with a cloud of white ash that was most certainly his own charred flesh. Dropping his arms back down by his sides, he watched the cursed thing roll towards his still unconscious king. It made a few circles as it turned, until it caught onto a crack in the brick and fell on its side.

  
Distantly, Ignis could hear Gladio and Prompto’s voices, and whether it was because he trusted them to help get Noct to safety, or because he was too weak to do anything else - he let the rain sooth the burns that marred all over his skin and his eyes slipped shut.

* * *

  
  
When he had awoken, he expected to be in an overly-populated hospital, alongside hundreds of injured civilians that were also caught up in Leviathan's wrath. He _hadn_’t expected to wake up in a luxury suite in the Leville. For half a second, everything seemed normal - like it was just a bad dream - but when he licked his dry lips and let out a weak cough after tasting ash in his mouth, that fantasy quickly vanished. He tilted his head the side of his plush pillow which immediately caught the attention of Gladio and Prompto, who were both staring at very interesting specks of dust on the carpet.

  
“Iggy!” Prompto cried loudly with excitement, running over to his side with Gladio following closely behind. Their faces were filled with concern for his health, but relief to see him looking coherently awake. “How’re you feeling?”.

  
Ignis raised his hand to tap the small scar under his eye, finding it coated in a slick substance that was probably some sort of burn-aid. Pulling his hand away, he saw that his arms were in an even worse condition, with wet bandages covering most of his arms up to his hands. His middle finger on the left though was left with a red burn that wrapped around the area he wore the ring. And as he sat up in the bed, he realised something else with mortification.

  
All of his clothes were gone, save for a loose pair of boxer shorts that clung around his waist. His torso covered in more burn-gel-soaked bandages, and he had to wonder how many times poor Gladio and Prompto had to change them while he was unconscious. “Was I out for long?” Ignis purposefully avoided answering Prompto’s question. Of course he wasn’t okay. He was covered head to toe in bandages.

  
“A few days.” Gladio answered simply. “Doc told us that we needed to keep your burns damp with this sticky gel. You were lucky that you didn’t damage your eyes.” His laughed humourlessly at the luck the advisor had.

  
Ignis hummed, continuing to gently prod at his wounds to test the sensitivity of his skin. His eyes shot up in alarm and was horrified he never even thought about it before, “Is Noctis okay?” He asked stiffly and couldn’t help that sickly feeling creep up like when Noctis was attacked by the Marilith as a child. Prompto nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine. Just a little tired. You did a good job keeping him safe for us.” The blond praised, giving Ignis a hesitant pat on the shoulder, unsure of whether or not it was safe to do so.

  
Oh thank goodness. He was okay. The messenger could relax now, knowing that he was in their hands and out of immediate danger. He let himself slip back down the pillows of his bed, and found sleep pulling at him once more. Gladio and Prompto seemed to notice his exhaustion, and moved to the door of his room. “We’ll wake you up when Noct does too.” Gladio called out. “Sleep well, Iggy.” And with that, the tired man was left on his own to rest - and Gods, did he need it.


	4. The Chosen Messenger

Ten years…

  
It took an entire decade for Noctis to return from the crystal. And while Ignis was thrilled to see his oldest friend return, a part of him felt guilty to the core for doing what he had to in order to save the one person he loved. But what hurt the most was that Noctis thought that _he_ was going to die - not having a clue that it would be his advisor instead.

  
Ignis took a deep breath. Before they left for Insomnia, he had to tell him something. He couldn’t leave Noctis feeling the guilt he most certainly would bear when Ignis suddenly perished.

  
But for the moment, they would enjoy their little reunion, even if it was only going to be short lived. He’d hold to memory every word that his King spoke - and Ignis could not be more proud of the man he had finally become. Noctis truly did look like a King, and even more so - his father. A fondness twinkled in the advisor’s green eyes upon seeing Noctis’s wide smile.

  
Ignis waited for Prompto and Gladio to have their “Final words” with their King, before Ignis had his. They both walked to the edge of the haven where they would have the most privacy, when Noctis finally built up the courage to speak first. “Why did you use it?” His voice was heavy with regret. Like he didn’t want to talk, but forced himself to. “While I was in the crystal, Bahamut told me you used the ring - back in Altissia.”.

  
The messenger swallowed. “You were in danger Noct. Had I not done so, I fear you would have perished.”.

  
“But you could have died, Specs!” Noct’s voice wavered. “I can’t handle that! I don’t wanna lose you too!” His eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill over, and Ignis felt knots of guilt twisting in his stomach.

  
“It’s in the past, now. You needn’t worry yourself over my choices anymore. I’ll be at your side until the very end. Never forget that.” Ignis’s gloved hands rose to gently swipe at a tear that trailed down the dark-haired man’s cheek. It was the least he could do to give him some comfort.

  
The King rose both of his hands to hold onto Ignis’. “Just please don’t do anything that reckless again. I wouldn’t ever be able to forgive myself if something happened…”

  
Ignis pursed his lips and looked down at the grip his King had on him. The very same as the little shy boy that held his hands when they first met. “Noct. I believe there is something you should know before we leave, and I need you to believe every word of what I’m about to say.” Ignis took a deep breath. Was he really going to tell him this? It would be so much to take in, but he felt like if anyone deserved to know, it should be Noct.

  
The dark-bearded man was confused, “Yeah? Sure thing Specs. I trust you.” The King was at full attention.

  
Ignis didn’t break eye contact for a second when he spoke. “I’m a messenger to the Astrals, Noct. I was sent here to guide you down the right path through each of your lives, so I could stand by you until the day you were to ascend the throne.” Ignis finally broke eye contact when he could no longer hide the tears that started to form behind his shaded glasses. “I wish I knew that the Astrals had planned such a cruel fate sooner so I could have prevented it. I’m sorry.” Gods, how he wished he knew… He would have done _anything_ to stop this from happening - but if to save Noctis meant sacrificing himself, then so be it.

  
Tears started to slip free from underneath his shaded glasses, and his shoulders started to shake with quiet sobs.

  
Suddenly, arms wrapped around him, and a warm face buried into his chest. “It’ll be okay, Iggy. I don’t care about any of that.” Noctis took a deep breath. “You’ve been with me the entire time, huh?” He let out a small laugh “…I hope the old Kings weren’t as difficult to feed their veggies as I am.” It seemed like Noct really wasn’t bothered by that at all, which was shocking to say the least. Time really had matured him, then. Ignis was going to miss him so much…

He held onto him tighter.

  
“Thanks for everything, Iggy.” Noct breathed the words out, as though they weighed more than the heaviest metal. “I couldn’t have asked for a better advisor. Or a better brother.”.

  
The two kept their hug for a while. Wanting to savour every moment they had left before Noct was to restore the light to them. Ignis would have laughed at the irony if it weren’t so cruel.

* * *

  
They stood at the bottom staircase of the citadel. It would be the last time Ignis ever saw his King. Noct’s final words, “Walk tall.” Rung through the advisors head as the trio braced themselves for an intense fight against the rising red giants. It would be Ignis’s last fight, and he was okay with that. He was tired of daemons. He was tired of fighting. Just… Tired. He _had_ to walk tall for his King. It would be what he wanted.

  
Oh.

  
Noct’s ascension must have begun.

  
A strange sensation swam through him. He felt like he was floating, but then, just as quickly - pain struck him in the chest, sending the daggers in his hand to the ground with a clatter. The cry that tore from his throat caught Gladio’s attention almost instantaneously, and he ran over calling Ignis’s name - desperate to get his attention.

  
Ignis scrambled for his blades, doing his best to act like nothing was wrong, even though he knew that this would surely be the way he’d die. “I’m fine, Gladio. I just need to-“ Another sharp pain shattered through his bones, and when another one quickly followed, his scream was choked out as he collapsed onto his knees.

  
Hands quickly flew to his shoulders, and Gladio gently shuffled Ignis onto his haunches, leaning him back against the Shield’s chest.

  
“Prompto, I need you over here! Somethin’s wrong with Iggy!” Ignis had never heard that tone in Gladio’s voice before. It wasn’t calm or commanding. It was downright _panic_. He could feel the rapidness of the Shield’s heartbeat against his shoulder. Or was that his? Ignis couldn’t tell, to be honest.

  
Another shot of pain rung through him that felt similar to when the effects of the ring wore off those ten years ago. He wasn’t sure if he could do this. But he had to, for Noct. He had to bear through it until the ascension was complete.

  
Prompto was in front of him now. Taking shots at the Red Giants that were steadily approaching them with a murderous intent. It wasn’t going to be enough to keep them away. Noct had to hurry. Ignis jerked at the next wave of pain, leaving him cold and shivering in the Shield’s arms, who swept a hand across his forehead to shift his long, fallen hair out of his eyes. “Iggy! Whats wrong? Talk to us!” Prompto shrieked out, turning his gaze to them for the briefest of seconds before returning to the fight.

  
“Noct…” Ignis breathed out. It was all he could manage.

  
“Prompto! I need you to cover me while I move Ignis, we can’t say here – It’s too dangerous!” Gladio was already lifting the dying advisor from underneath his knees and around his back like he _didn’t _weigh more than seventy kilograms of muscle.

  
“Gotcha!” Prompto answered simply. Ignis would have been proud of how far the sharpshooter had come if he weren’t in white hot agony. Gladio nearly lost his grip when the messenger jerked violently in his arms again and again with new crippling blows.

  
“Easy, Iggy. We’re gonna get you some help, okay? Just stay with us.” Gladio’s words were reassuring, but… They were false.

  
Ignis’ eyes closed. He could no longer hear anything other than his own thoughts racing through his head and the loud thumping of his own heart against his ribs. The familiar feeling of death warming over him. But unlike every other life he had lived and died - he had regrets and wishes for this one. It felt too soon.

  
He should have told Noct that he was taking his place as the blood sacrifice.

  
He should have let Noct know that he was so proud of him and that he was going to be an amazing king.

  
Should have told Gladio and Prompto to look after him and that he couldn’t have asked for better friends. Hell, maybe he should have even reciprocated his feelings to Aranea - just to get a taste of what it felt like to be in love. But… no.

  
None of that mattered now.

  
All that mattered was that Ignis fulfilled his role as advisor and brother to Noctis.

  
A final wave of pain exploded through his entire being, but he no longer had the strength to scream and simply went limp in Gladio’s arms as his life slipped away.

* * *

  
Everything was black. Empty. Just like every other time he died and waited to be reborn into a new life. He wasn’t sure how long he floated in this abysmal state, but eventually - a gentle blue light faded through the dark and he found himself drifting towards where it seemed strongest in colour.

  
Bahamut waited for him to arrive at his feet before he spoke in a deep rumble. His voice echoing through the void. “You have done well to aide the Chosen King.”.

  
The messenger bowed his head slightly in gratitude. It wasn’t often that the Astrals gave praise to those lower than them. “I thank you for granting me the time I had alongside them.”.

  
Bahamut remained as still as always. Steady and composed, always thinking his next words thoroughly. “As result of your aide, humanity has a second chance to rebuild itself sturdier than what has only been imagined.”.

  
“I only wish I were there to see and help them more…” The messenger thought aloud, not intending to be heard by the Astral, but secretly wanting to be.

  
“Your loyalty to mortals is intriguing. Do you wish to become one?” His voice wasn’t menacing or patronising. It was pure curiosity. Was he making an offer?

  
Ignis’s head jolted up at this realisation, and didn’t even think before the words left his mouth, “More than anything! I wish to be among them and live and love like them.” He didn’t meant to plead, but he didn’t think he could stand being duty-bound to the Astrals any longer. He just wanted to hear Noct’s laugh once more, and to see him smile again. Perhaps he was really just human at heart after all these years of being with them.

  
The atmosphere was heavy with a pregnant silence before the Astral answered to his calling. “Very well. We will grant you mortality. You are no longer a messenger to our callings. Take your leave, and do not return to us, _mortal_.” He stressed he last word.

  
Ignis could have sworn he felt his heart ache with joy. He was getting a second chance. He could finally live his life as his own and do as he pleased. It was everything he could have ever wanted. It would be his last chance at life, and he was okay with that. As long as he was with Noct, he was happy with what he got.

* * *

  
He could hear muffled voices. Someone was loud and gruff. Another was light but could barely be understood underneath the sniffles, and a third one that was right next to Ignis’ face. His sounded broken with grief. His sounded like… Noct’s voice.

  
Jade green eyes gently fluttered open from behind long blond lashes, to see his King kneeling by his side. A hand cupping his pale and scarred cheek ever so gently, and tears streaming down his face with no sight of an end to them.

  
“Noct?” The sound of Ignis shattered through the air of despair like an arrow of light through the darkest of caves. The crying instantly ceased upon the tone of his weak, but familiar accented voice.

  
The dark-haired man’s free hand fell on Ignis’s other cheek, as though he wasn’t entirely convinced that what he just heard was true. “Iggy? Are you…” He shook his head in disbelief, trying not to get his hopes up.

  
Ignis smiled. “It’s good to see you too, your Majesty.” He sucked in a deep breath and tried with all of his might to lean himself up, but was still just too weak to move anything other than his heavy head.

  
Noctis took the hint and helped prop his advisor to sit upright, allowing him to rest against his shoulders and gaze out the entrance of the citadel. Prompto and Gladio by their side, looking both horrified and relieved at the same time. “I’m so sorry I scared you like that. It was wrong of me not to tell you…”.

  
“Yeah, you’re _damn _right it was wrong of you to scare us like that! So don’t do it again!” Gladio barked, but it lacked bite.

  
Prompto lightly slapped the Shield’s arm and rolled his eyes playfully, “Tell us what?”. The blond rubbed at his red, freckly cheeks to rid of the wetness that stained his face.

  
Ignis turned to Noctis with an shamelessly teary grin. “I’m no longer burdened to aiding the Astrals until the end of time. I’m finally free, and its thanks to you three. I’ll get to live a normal life, just like I wanted.”

  
“Wait, hold on. You were a _what_, Iggy?” Prompto shook his head, trying to process what he just heard like the man claim that he saw a goblin riding a unicorn.

  
“I’ll be happy to tell you all about it later, but I think right now, I’d just like to watch the sunrise with you three.” The advisor turned to Gladio and Noct, who were already looking quite mesmerised by the sight of the warm orange glow that was steadily lighting the night sky.

  
“Yeah… That sounds nice.” Prompto kneeled down next to Noct with his legs folded to his side, while Gladio moved on the opposite end towards Ignis before sitting cross legged with an arm stretched over Iggy’s back to hold gently onto Noct’s closest shoulder.

  
Even if the rest of his life would be spent rebuilding Eos, Ignis was content, just as long as he had those that he loved.


End file.
